Prisoners
by cookieemonsterr4
Summary: I'm sure you thought nothing was more horrifying than being held captive by the same guy who tried to take over Midgard. Well, you were wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is the first Avengers fic I've written so, even though I like it, maybe you won't. Well, if you like it, feel free to tell me, if you don't like it, feel free to tell me. Anyway, I hope everyone likes it and yeah. Okay enjoy :)**

Chapter One

Someone please tell me how Natasha Romanoff got herself chained to a wall light years away from Midgard? With company that is a bit, ahem, less than desirable.

There was something so unpleasant about waking from a trauma induced slumber-of that, the former Russian spy was confident. Given her immense training and the ghosts of her childhood, the heaviness of her limbs, the throbbing of her head, and the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach, oh yes, these were all the very familiar feelings to the well trained spy.

Quite honestly, the Black Widow was nearly hit with a wave of nostalgia as the black edges around her mind dulled and reality resurfaced. Rather quickly those thoughts were pushed away, for with them came the unhappy memories of a girl she had no desire to ever be again.

Natasha came to with weary eyes and just an ounce of dread. Upon seeing the person sitting opposite her, that ounce of dread became a couple tons of dread.

There across from her, in all his _glory_ was Loki-Champion of the Reindeer Games. Natasha almost laughed at how Stark-like that comment was. Almost. But something about waking up in the same room as the man/god that tried to flatten New York City just made that reaction seem a little crass. Rather, she just closed her eyes and attempted to ignore his presence in lieu of figuring out exactly what had happened.

The absolute last thing that Natasha remembered was the details of her last assignment; her most recent target.

_Filip DeTorro was a bastard. Both literally and figuratively. He was the epitome of "crime boss" and the year's recipient for biggest asshole-at least in Natasha's book. Most recently, his exploits had involved kidnapping an American ambassador in Spain. _

_Now, Natasha knew that Ambassadors, Diplomats, Presidents, Chairmen, they went missing. That was kind of to be expected given the whole power/money craze that took over the leaders of such organizations as DeTorro's little set up. But what didn't usually happen was pieces of the kidnapped representative being sent in boxes with demands every three days. _

_Considering the ear, eye, and three fingers that had been received so far (all removed while Ambassador Paul was still alive, mind you), thinks were looking grim for the usual groups. _

_"We don't deal with terrorists." Had been the standard response issued by the CIA, FBI, and Secret Service. _

_When the bloody parts kept coming, the three defense organizations made an executive decision to ask Fury and SHIELD for a bit of assistance. And boy did he comply. _

_Within twenty four hours of the request (the delivery of a toe with the morning post speeding things up a bit), Fury had one of his best agents-the one and olny Black Widow-on a jet bound for Pairs-where DeTorro was rumored to have been staying at present. Upon landing and contacting a few old friends, Natasha was soon in possession of DeTorro's most recent confirmed location._

Those few seconds of memory were all Natasha could process before Loki's presence became too much for her to just entirely ignore. She wasn't sure if he knew she was awake yet or not. If Loki was aware, he hadn't made any move to torture her yet, so that was a plus. On the other hand, he hadn't made any move yet, so that wasn't quite good.

Cautiously, the trained assassin made careful note of her current situation. Recently unconscious due to blunt force trauma to the head-possible concussion. Sore arms and back-right wrist possibly broken. Inability to move left arm from current position-most likely bound.

Great. This was just getting better and better.

After all, who wouldn't want to wake up in a room with war criminal Loki Odinson?

With everything she could tell without opening her eyes accounted for, Natasha opened her eyes and plastered a practiced glare to her face. Loki may have taken her this time, but she wasn't about to let the God of Mischief think he won-let alone give him the satisfaction of thinking he had any control over her.

The moment her eyes opened, Natasha realized that wherever they were, it was a basement dungeon of some type. The dirt covered floor was a real step down for Loki, she had to admit, especially after the grandeur of his last attempt to rule Earth. Sorry, _Midgard. _Her assumption that her hand was bound had ben correct. There was a tight steel like band tied around her wrist that propped it up above her head. It wasn't normal metal, obviously, this was freaking Loki she was dealing with.

Attempting to make a fist with her free hand solidified her thoughts concerning a broken something in her right wrist. She winced only slightly.

Following her grim discoveries, Natasha looked up at the demigod before her.

The Black Widow expected a triumphant smirk, a composed leer, a taunting stance. Instead, she found something that broke her spirits even more.

Seated some four feet across the dirt from her was a man she could hardly recognize. Sure, his black hair, sharp features, and entrancing green eyes were there but there was something so, so _lost_ about him that made it that she almost forgot that he was Loki, the monster who killed Coulson, destroyed New York City, compromised Clint.

Thinking about it, it wasn't so much that Loki looked lost that increased her worry. Truly it was the fact that rather than being her captor with a likely plan to inflict pain and torture on her for her previous actions against him, the God of Mischief was bound in similar fashion to Natasha-only his "free" right hand was trapped in a barbed wire looking cuff that was glowing red.

So what was more terrifying than being abducted by Loki? Simple, being held prisoner _with_ Loki.

**AN: So I know this chapter is short but just tell me what you thought… even if you hated it or think I'm dumb, that's okay, I'm pretty alright with that. Anyway, the rest of the chapters should be longer and yeah. **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks for all the reviews and such, always a nice surprise to find in my inbox! Anyway, here is chapter two. It's a bit longer than the first and more at the length I'm planning the rest of the chapters to be at. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter two

Finding people was part of Natasha's job. Killing them, torturing them, exploiting them, yeah, that happened too. Most people had it coming, Filip DeTorro for example. See, the master assassin hadn't willingly taken out an innocent in quite some time-she was trying to keep anymore red from getting into her ledger.

DeTorro was a blemish on the surface of the Earth; he needed to be taken care of before he became something more serious than just an overhyped, somehow worshiped, crime lord.

Natasha had found him. Natasha was going to find where Ambassador Paul was being held. Natasha was going to eliminate DeTorro. Simple as that. Hell, she might even be back to The Tower by Tuesday pizza night.

At present, DeTorro was staying at the Hotel Fouquet's Barriere under one of his lackey's personal credit card. Rookie mistake number one.

The hotel was beautiful and wonderfully secure to the unexperienced eye. The doormen and guards stationed just inside the entrance may have given off a sense of security to the guests (DeTorro included, she assumed) but they were barely obstacles for her. With a simple wardrobe change, swish of her hips, and a coy smile, all four "security precautions" were puddles for her to step over.

Trusting the hotel security. Rookie mistake number two.

Quickly Natasha made her way to the employee's only changing room and found one of the maids' locker. Quicker than convincing Stark to borrow one of his cars, the Black Widow was on her way out of the changing room and on a path directly to DeTorro's suite.

As the black dress swished against the carpet, Natasha became just a bit worried that this was going too smoothly. No one had stopped her, not even the Check in girl at the front desk who was clearly not impressed by the couture dress that was just classy enough for the upscale establishment. Wasn't DeTorro supposed to have guards? Fury had warned her that he was highly skilled and incredibly capable of assembling an ample attack against her in little to no time at all.

Yet here she was, climbing the fifth flight of stairs and slinking out of the dank stairwell without a single person on her case.

Not that Natasha was complaining. Leaving the private security guards at home. That was rookie mistake number three.

By the time that she reached DeTorro's door (again, void of any security beyond the standard card swipe for room access), the Black Widow was actually a touch hurt. Fury had said that this would be a challenge-a case that could be completed by only one of SHIELD's best agents.

Coulson's decaying corpse could have completed this.

What exactly was so difficult here? Was it the having to ask a few old contacts where to find the infamous Filip DeTorro for 'possible business arrangements' or was it the whole having to snag a master key that could have been replicated by any tech savie high schooler?

Then again, there was a slight possibility that the hardest part was the actual flight from New York to Paris.

Once Natasha was directly in front of DeTorro's door, she slipped her heels back on and swiped the master card into the reader. With an audible click, the heavy barrier opened and the master assassin slipped in before closing the door soundlessly behind her.

Inside the room was illuminated by three small lamps-one on a coffee table in the center of the room, one standing next to the tv(which was on and broadcasting some foreign soap opera), and finally one on the wall just beyond the entrance hallway.

At first, Natasha worried that this would make things minutely more difficult. Moving through the darkness unseen was simple; doing so in the dim light of a hotel room with a fine view of the brightly lite Eifel Tower was not quite so easily accomplished.

Slowly, silently she made her way down the hall-one hand holding a gun and affixed silencer, the other keeping her dress from sweeping the floor. She could see the top of DeTorro's head sticking out over the top of the black leather couch, unassuming and unaware of the situation he was about to be entered into.

Natasha checked the corners and visible spaces in the room before moving closer to DeTorro.

Something was wrong. It shouldn't be this easy. Crime bosses didn't just lounge around hotel rooms watching soaps without anyone around to watch their ass. If they did, life would be far easier and Natasha might have to worry if her job was as secure as she had previously thought.

Despite that, it seemed to be that DeTorro was vulnerable and without anyone to defend him from what was to come. Ambassador Paul might be a free man by breakfast tomorrow.

Natasha took the last three steps forward and placed her gun at the back of DeTorro's head with just enough force to get his attention.

Without any warning, DeTorro's body fell forward and folded in on itself-into a pool of blood that had to have come from at least four people if Natasha's estimates and experience with the substance were correct.

On the ground near the limp form of DeTorro lay the equally dead bodies of his top affiliates-Rufus Griphook, Ferdinand Cristo, and Harold Rubio. All four bodies were a mess of dried blood, flesh, and a few visible bones. Whoever did this had created carnage that was unspeakable and would have been scaring to the average person.

Before Natasha had time to do anything, a black figure with what appeared to be seven inch blades for finger nails moved from the corner of her peripheries and made quick work of knocking her unconscious.

Loki didn't say anything for a while, nor did Natasha. She wasn't quite sure what the disgraced god was doing here (on Earth, were they even on Earth?), but whatever it was, Natasha wanted nothing to do with it. Beyond that, he looked a shadow of the powerful, self-assured being that had nearly conquered New York City just over two years ago.

"Why are you here?" Natasha finally asked, sure that he wasn't going to be the one to break the silence.

At her words, his green eyes snapped up to meet hers. She knew that there was a cut on the side of her forehead that wouldn't be healing nicely and probably a trail of blood streaking the left side of her face-possibly down her neck also. Quite honestly, Natasha hadn't felt this dirty and broken since she was a child-back when she was still but a cog in the Red Room machine. Not that Loki looked any better. In fact, if this was a competition of "who looked more tortured", Natasha would put her money on Loki over her battered form without a doubt.

He looked malnourished (when had he last been fed?), the tattered fabric clinging to his chest was covered in dirt and dried blood (how long had he worn that shirt?), his pants were hardly any better, and then there was the choppiness in his now just beyond shoulder length hair (who the heck took an axe to his hair?).

"Quite obviously for the views, mortal" he responded, though his voice lacked the fighting, prideful quality she had been expecting.

Suddenly his head snapped to what she assumed was the door to this cell (cave? basement?), hearing sounds that even her trained ears couldn't pick up on. For a fraction of a second, Natasha saw fear in his eyes. It was quickly washed away with a look of indifference that she recognized easily as a cover for what was truly within.

"Pretend you're still unconscious." Loki whispered rapidly as he pulled himself up to sit straighter "And whatever you hear, don't move, don't make a sound. No matter what"

Natasha didn't understand. It almost seemed like he was protecting her, but this was Loki she was talking about. He wouldn't care for a "mewling quim" like the mortal Black Widow she was. Yet, almost without thought, Natasha nodded and closed her eyes before the rough grey stone door was pulled open and something thrown at her feet.

There was a rustling of dragged footsteps and a harsh slamming noise before Natasha heard her captors speak.

"Has the mortal woken?" the voice-thick with what sounded like a phlegm coated throat-asked, the question punctuated by another harsh slam that, through years of experience, Natasha knew was a body hitting an unforgiving surface.

As the man-testosterone overdosing female?-asked the first question, the dragging sound of an unconscious body being pulled the few feet to the far wall of the cell was pretty evident to Natasha's ears. An almost mechanical clicking and the definitive sound of a hard shoe kicking the soft expanse between the ribcage and hipbone soon followed.

"Does it look like the weak_, insignificant _being is awake?" Loki's voice responded. He was lying, through his teeth, which wasn't surprising considering he was the God of Mischief and all.

The one not speaking had retreated back to the entrance of the cell, four lethargic steps from where the kick had been administered. From the sound of it, this one had a bum leg that dragged ever so slightly behind the dominant one.

"Are you lying, Frost Giant? Do you dare-"a tearing sound and a slight gasp interrupted the taunting voice that must belong to the monsters holding them. "-lie to us?"

"Why would I lie for the _scum_ of the nine realms?" Natasha heard Loki's body hit the ground and the captor leave. The stone door slammed shut and ten seconds later-once Natasha was sure that it was safe-she opened her eyes to a sight she wasn't quite prepared for.

Her first instinct was to look to where she had heard the body being dragged by the silent captor. There was a trail of crimson blood-starting out as smeared droplets at the stone door and moving to a long comet like pool starting at Natasha's feet (where the figure had originally been dropped) and moving to the slumped figure now chained to the wall opposite the door.

The person, clearly female, was lying completely on the ground with one hand secured to the wall and the other clasped in a rough, barbed wire like bracelet identical to the one adorning Loki's right wrist, but glowing a blue color rather than red. Her hair was a mess of wild black curls that seemed to tangle in on themselves in and infinite knot. The rags that had possibly at one point been clothing were blood soaked and otherwise black-a color she wasn't too sure the fabric had originally been.

Next, her eyes swept over to Loki. He was on the ground again, one hand still tied up above his head while the other clutched at his shoulder-right above where his heart was. Did he even have a heart?

Before any more cruel thoughts could enter her mind she realized what he was trying to smother beneath his hand. A few feet above his head, where no doubt he had been held forcefully just a few minutes prior, were four holes symmetrically punched an inch or two into the wall. Dripping down from each hole was a trail of blood.

Now, Natasha knew that even if this wasn't Earth (which, all things considered, she was starting to think that this _location_ was definitely not on her home sphere), walls did not bleed. That being said, the image of the beast with seven inch blades for fingers-which was most certainly not Johnny Depp reprising his role as Edward Scissor-Hands-that had knocked her unconscious came to mind.

She knew what happened before even having to really think about it. That thing (monster) had stabbed its claws through Loki's shoulder and imbedded its nails into the wall behind the demigod. He hadn't even screamed. He didn't even admit that Natasha had woken up.

"Oh my god" Natasha whispered, more to herself than to Loki or the girl slumped in the corner.

"It's nothing," Said Loki before motioning to the girl in the corner "Check for a pulse" he added once she glanced over at the unmoving form.

Natasha rolled her eyes at his command before responding.

"In case you didn't notice, I'm chained to a wall. How do you propose I get over there, Reindeer Games?" she held back a smirk at using Tony's nickname for the New York City tormentor.

"There are groves in the wall, Widow, that make it so you can walk around the room. Now do it." He sounded so angry that Natasha was pretty sure if his hands were both free, they would be wrapped around her throat right now and his eyes would be watching the life drain from her eyes.

"I don't take orders from you" was her response. Despite that, she still leaned heavily against the wall to help herself stand before pulling her attached hand through the smoothly cut, nearly invisible track that ran in a grid lick pattern throughout the cell.

When she reached the unconscious woman, she dropped down to her knees and grabbed swiftly for pulse point on her neck. It was slightly slower than normal for an average adult female but it was there nonetheless.

"She's alive. Her pulse is a bit slow-"

"No, she's a quarter or so elf, her pulse is always slower than you Midgardians" the statement wasn't as contemptuous as it could have been. Natasha knew that he could probably inflict more hatred into a few syllables than anyone else she had met.

"Elf? She looks pretty human to me." Said Natasha as she moved back to her wall of the cell

"What has appearance to do with it? I look quite human myself, but you and I both know I'm a monster of a different calibre" Loki had called himself a monster. That was unexpected. For some reason, thinking that about him for two years and hearing him utter the words were two entirely different things.

Thor had once told her that time passes differently in different corners of the universe. Natasha couldn't know how long Loki had been these creatures punching bag, how long he had sat in this dirt covered room with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, all she knew was that she had spent two years telling Clint that he wasn't a monster, that everything he did was out of his control, that Loki was the monster.

Somehow, his few words on the subject made that all seem like a lie. He had blatantly told their captors that Natasha hadn't woken up yet. He had suffered that beast stabbing its hand through him and into the wall beyond the last layer of flesh yet still hadn't given up that modicum of information.

Why the hell would he do that? Surely he hadn't changed. Surely he _couldn't_ change that much. No matter what, he had just spared her pain that up until a few days ago, Natasha was pretty sure she would never have to endure again. Maybe he wasn't as much of a monster as she had previously thought.

"You're wrong. You don't look like a human." He gave her a sideways look that clearly said she was being absurd

"You look like an ass" Natasha finished with a slight smirk pulling at the right corner of her mouth.

**AN: Well there is chapter 2! I really hope you like it and tell me what you thought! I'll try to have the next chapter out soon, so keep an eye out. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks for all the reviews and things, I appreciate it. I'm doing my best to update in a timely manner and I'm super excited that anyone has liked this story! This story has taken on a life of its own in my mind, not that I'm complaining. Loki is my favorite character, what can I say, I have an affinity for bad guys. Anyway, tell me what ya think of this chapter and I'll try to have the next out soon.**

Chapter Three:

"Someone tell me what the fuck I'm looking at. Wait—"Nick Fury grabbed the arm of the nearest agent—Greenbaum, was it? Who cared.

"I think you might have misunderstood. I don't care about the dead war lords, or the god damn alien skin in the closet. Where is Agent Romanoff? Can you find me fucking Agent Romanoff, Greenbaum?" the already terror inducing voice of Fury rose as he yelled at the young man—a rookie who had only been with SHIELD for five months.

"It's Grendelwald, s-sir and—" the shriveling newbie stumbled through the correction before Fury cut him off.

"I don't give a—"

"Director, you've got a call" Maria Hill stated as she walked into the bloody scene of three former villains, the skin that some beast had shed, and an obvious lack of Natasha Romanoff.

"Hill, unless it's Romanoff I really don't have the time."

"It's Thor." That garnered a look of interest and a nod, conveying to Hill to continue

"Apparently, he's in New Mexico with Jane Foster and he's not just dropping in."

Fury gave a one eyed glare at Grendelwhatever before leaving the bloody hotel room in lieu of the makeshift command center that had been set up five doors down the hall. Upon entering, his eyes were drawn to the main monitor in the room that was displaying an image of Thor Odinson and Dr. Jane Foster. They appeared to be having a side conversation that stopped immediately once they noticed Fury standing in front of the webcam that had been set up.

"Thor, Dr. Foster, mind telling me what the two of you deemed so important that searching for my missing agent could wait?" If Thor wasn't a god, he probably would have flailed on the ground instead of responding to the simply murderous look that graced the SHIELD leader's features.

"Director Fury, I fear my visit is not of leisure. I have heard of Lady Natasha's disappearance, though I am not certain, I do not believe that she is still within this realm." Thor spoke in his usual stoic tone, not even a glimmer of doubt evident in his voice. Sometimes, Fury hated Thor's 'mightier than all' persona but right now—with his greatest asset AWOL—he would take the demigod's feeling over the dog shit excuses his agents were coming up with.

Despite the new theory, Natasha being off of this planet was not really something he could deal with. Nor could he simply accept the Asgardian's proposition. Why couldn't the girl have just killed DeTorro and been done with the whole situation? He had jobs that needed her _special_ touch. This truly was an inconvenient time for Agent Romanoff to go missing.

"Well go on then, tell me where Romanoff disafuckingpeared to" Fury sat down in a chair that had been vacated a few seconds prior by a female agent who had worked for SHIELD for about 5 years now. That being said, he still couldn't remember her name—she just wasn't on the same level as Hill, his personal favorite of the 'agents who haven't made me hate them at one point of another' variety.

"I am not familiar with—"

"He means disappeared. Just tell him about what happened, what happened with Loki" Jane interrupted Thor before he could finish his query into Fury's word choice.

The moment that Dr. Foster had finished speaking, Fury had already figured out where this was going. That goddamned Reindeer had escaped and kidnapped his Black Widow, oh, the God of Mischief was going to die this time. No brother would be able to save him now.

'_Let Thor take him, you'll never have to worry about him again'_ wasn't that what he had been promised? No more mind controlling, world domination seeking psycho gods?

"I believe I was promised to never have to hear about your brother again, Thor" Fury had leaned back in the chair, his hands holding stiffly to the armrests that threatened to break off if much more pressure was applied.

"That promise must be broken, Director." Rather than any form of anger toward the recently resurfaced mass-murdering brother, there was a tinge of sadness—fear or regret almost—that prevailed through Thor's tone.

"Roughly one Midgardian year ago, my brother was removed from his cell—if you could call it that. We feared that it was an ally of his, freeing him of the tortures wrought down by Odin for his wrong doings. The Allfather sentenced him to millennia of having snake venom dripped into his eyes. He was serving out his punishment without issue, though I doubt happily, until a creature disguised as an AEsir broke into the chamber and took Loki. We all thought it a planned escape, all but Frigga—my mother. She would wipe the venom off of Loki's face, talk to him, and she didn't believe that he had just _left_.

"It was a few months after his disappearance that I noticed a few lines of ink on a scroll within my chambers. I am not scholarly, that was more my brother's area, so I had not written this. It was in Loki's hand 'send help' and beneath that 'make haste, brother'." Thor paused and seemed to be recalling a particularly painful memory.

Well Fury didn't have time for this sob story (was it a sob story? Fury hoped he was having his fingernails pulled slowly from his nail beds while whatever beast took him peeled the skin from his bones. Maybe that last part was a little too far. No, it wasn't, this was the bastard that fucked up New York City. Let him suffer). What he needed was his best agent back and that didn't seem like it would be happening if Thor continues with this tale of Loki.

"Look, Thor, I don't have time to hear about your brother's disappearing act—can you tell me where Romanoff is or not?"

"Not exactly. Loki's magic has been bound, he cannot communicate fully—I cannot even be sure Lady Natasha is with him now, but I do know that the creatures that took him are not friendly. They are of the outer realms and, as son of Flint has informed me, whatever it was that took Natasha left behind their skin. There are only a few types of creatures who can do this. Not a single one of them particularly enjoys my brother's company, nor do they think highly of Midgard." Thor finished his statement without quelling the SHIELD Director's need for information on the whereabouts of his best agent. Did the Asgardian Prince not comprehend that absolutely nothing he was saying was helpful to this search?

"How do you know that Loki hasn't taken Romanoff? How the fuck," he paused to slam his fist onto the desk that was directly in front of him, "do you know that Loki isn't working with these _things_?" Fury asked, his anger at the whole situation evident in the harsh tone of his voice.

"A short while ago they sent my father Loki's tongue. Ripped out of his mouth as he tried to fight his way out of their grasp. That was when it was when it was realized that he had not left of his own free will. After that, the Allfather received three of Loki's fingers and one of his ears. Does this not convince you he is free of any wrong doing?"

"So Loki's dead then, you can't have all of those cut from your body and survived. If the blood loss didn't get you, the shock would." Agent Hill spoke this time, her tone more somber than it had been when she first answered the call from Thor and Dr. Foster.

On the monitor, the agents and Fury observed Jane grabbing hold of Thor's hand and an expression of pure anguish darken his features.

"I fear you misheard me. When I said that his tongue was ripped from his mouth, I meant pulled by the hand of his captor—not sheared by a blade. The same torture was inflicted to remove the other body parts." The room was stunned to silence. This was a torture entirely unimaginable to them. Yes, having your tongue cut out was a horror in and of itself but to have a _beast_ pull with a force great enough to remove the tongue, well, that wasn't something any human could comprehend. Not Fury, nor Clint Barton, who was en route to Paris at the moment.

The one least prepared for this statement though was Agent Hill. Maria had taken her fair share of interrogations, dangerous missions, even a bit of torture. She liked to think that she was a hardened agent of SHIELD, just as her coworkers were, but beneath the rough exterior, she could feel Thor's pain. Oh, the heartache that Loki's suffering had brought the God of Thunder was evident throughout his features. His eyes glistening with unshed tears, his mouth pressed into a hard line; he was the picture of stoic pride. Hill was almost as pale as Jane Foster, whose hand was likely being shattered by Thor at present, though Jane seemed to be holding something back—a horror that hadn't yet been unveiled.

"Thor had informed me that so long as Natasha isn't subjected to the same tortures that have befallen Loki, the Asgardian people should be able to save them. Both of them. I know what you're going to say, 'he should be dead, no one could survive that' and that is exactly what I thought. I have seen the enhanced healing abilities that the people of Asgard have first hand, mostly when I hit Thor with a van—"

"Twice" Thor added, a haunting ghost of a smile appearing on his face. Jane brought her other hand over to rub soothingly over his arm. The gesture did not seem to visibly calm the demigod.

"Yes, well, Thor said that Loki's healing is slightly faster than the average Asgardian because of his magic and his not actually being an Asgardian. He is still alive, as far as we can tell. And, while I do not condone torture nor do I think that this is necessarily a _good_ situation, his being alive is very good for Natasha. They would obviously rather torture the being that can withstand the pain they like to cause, rather than one that would be dead the second the first round was up." Jane had a few tears running down her face, she made no move to wipe them away.

"So it would seem that we have a new enemy to worry about then, one that has taken my best agent and, though I don't necessarily care for him, your brother. How exactly do you plan to get them back if you don't even know where in the goddamn universe they are?"

"That is why I am here. Asgard has a great many resources but none of that has cast light on Loki's location. I shall require your help to find Lady Natasha and my brother. I beg you show him mercy and place the life of your agent above the hatred you harbor towards my brother for the pain and destruction he has caused" Thor did not sound hopeful—he barely seemed to be able to string the words together—but despite the stigma surrounding the fuck up that was Loki, Fury didn't seem that disinclined to help. Or maybe he did. It was hard to tell with the permanent sneer and one-eyed glare look going on.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

**AN: All righty, well there you have it. Hope it was all you hoped for, and if it wasn't, I'm sorry. If you want to, leave a review, if you don't, that's cool too. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Sorry for taking a bit to upload this, I had a couple midterms and papers due that set me back. Anyway, hope you like the new chapter! This one is all Natasha Loki interaction so that's fun. If you think anything is too out of character, let me know and I'll try to prevent it from happening anymore. And yeah, so hope it's enjoyable**

Chapter Four

The silence of the room was making Natasha uneasy. The only reassurance she had that the other two in the room were alive was the smothered gasp as Loki would change the position of the blood soaked cloth covering the wound he had received a few hours prior. The girl, who Loki had conveniently forgotten to name, would groan every once in a while, never actually waking up.

Natasha couldn't quite figure out what had been done to the woman—who looked to be around the same age as herself—but the unconscious state couldn't be indicative of anything _nice_ per say. Despite that, she could not assess the injuries the stranger had suffered without her being lucid enough to ask. So Natasha found herself just staring at the gaping hole in Loki.

Okay, so maybe "hole" wasn't the right word. Holes. Now that was the right word. Four of them, roughly a square inch each, separated by a small chunk of flesh that was bloodied but otherwise in tact. To his credit, the God of Mischief was holding it together pretty well for a guy that just had the equivalent of four spears jabbed through his chest.

Though thinking of just the injury and not the man (demigod) and the reason he had the wound to begin with was just a little too hard.

First off, he had actually flattened parts of New York City with his alien army. He had killed people, a lot of people, and compromised her partner (former lover, now, but who cared about the details?). Basically, Loki was a horrible guy who kind of deserved to be taken down a peg. But did that peg really have to be having sketchy razor nails driven through his body? Did it have to be so gruesome and barbaric?

Beyond that, the second thought that came with his bloody image was that he had suffered for her. It wasn't explicitly spoken between the two parties that terrible things would happen to her if they were aware she was awake, but Natasha knew. Of course she knew that they intended to torture her just the same as they had Loki and the girl—why wouldn't they? She was a prisoner here the same as her cohorts.

It didn't matter to these _things _that she was a human instead of an Asgardian prince or whatever the hell the passed out woman was. Natasha could feel pain, sure she was toughened against it, but she was still capable of being hurt. That scared her—that truly and utterly horrified her. After all of her training, all the years in the Red Room, a few alien baddies could still get the best of her. Who was she, a mortal, to prevent their "fun" when someone as wicked as Loki couldn't even put a stop to their torture?

And Loki "I'm going to take over the Earth because I have daddy issues" had been the one to keep her alive. For now at least. Did that mean that he was reformed? Had he let the remorse of his actions get to him? Was it possible that Loki had changed?

Natasha looked up and saw the murderous expression on his face, buried just beneath the pain.

No. He had not changed. Loki was still capable of things that made Natasha's skin crawl—things that made the Black Widow, assassin extraordinaire, feel like nothing more than a mere peasant. This was not what reformation looked like. Of that, Natasha was sure.

Reformation was not something to be had by villains who killed hundreds. Perhaps one day Loki would find salvation, that day was likely to be the day the universe imploded and any semblance of life as it once was destroyed.

After falling asleep for what felt like just a few minutes, Natasha woke again to see that Loki had left the bloody rag on the ground and the monstrosity of a cut had seemingly stopped rushing. Odd. Did Loki heal faster than a human? She supposed it was possible that Asgardians had escalated healing processes but actually seeing such a thing was strange.

"How long was I asleep?" Natasha quietly asked the God of Mischief sitting across from her. Honestly, she was just sick of the silence—she knew that she could only have been out for a few hours at most.

"Three weeks, two days by my count." Natasha's eyes grew wide in horror as a smirk set onto Loki's lips. Oh, he was enjoying himself, that was obvious.

"Oh, you meant just now? Silly me. Five hours."

"You are such an ass. I can't believe you. You know, for a second I—wait, three weeks?" Natasha only truly processed what he had said _after_ he mentioned how long her actual nap was. What the heck was he talking about before?

"And two days, the hours I'm not so sure of." He leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling as he waited for Natasha to formulate her next question. _Arrogant bastard._ He thought he knew her so well just because he had been inside Clint's mind while he was on Earth. Here's a shocker, Clint didn't know everything about her back then—nor did he now—because some secrets were too much to just throw at another person.

"You're telling me that I was knocked out for three weeks? Just passed out and you didn't kill me?" he snapped his attention back to her, a slight sneer on his face as he made eye contact.

"Exactly, I understand if that is too much for your Midgardian brain to comprehend, you really are a simple species. I, of course, wanted to kill you right away," he paused, a ghost of some emotion (Remorse for losing a quick and easy kill? Guilt over not doing the proper villain thing and ending her? Regret for not killing her? Natasha wasn't sure) slightly tainting his hard expression "but Nenna insisted against it. She thought there was something of _value _in you. You. A mortal woman. Perhaps the torture truly has distorted her mind."

"Mortal, that's all you think of me? Maybe you have forgotten but it was me and a few other _mortals_ that brought you down. Speaking of them, I know that they'll come to save me and, when they do, I'll tell them to leave you here to suffer. After all that you did to the Earth, you deserve it." Natasha remained fierce, her tone not faltering in the slightest as she made her threats to the injured god. She knew that the Avengers would come looking for her—save her from this other world's grasp—she just wasn't sure how long it would take.

They should be here soon, what with Thor and his scientist girlfriend capable of helping; no corner of the universe was beyond of their grasp. Natasha full heartily believed this. Her last statement, though, she wasn't so sure of. Loki had lied to protect her (hadn't he?) and had taken quite a beating for that fallacy. Despite her hatred for the man, she knew that when the Avengers arrived, she would tell them to take Loki too. Thor would probably be with them anyway and, no matter what had happened, Loki was still his brother—he wouldn't leave him behind.

Suddenly, the Trickster's quiet laughter broke Natasha from her thoughts. Great, now he thought her threats were funny. Had she really lost her touch that quickly? Surely a three-week unconscious stint hadn't deprived her of her skills.

"What?" she snapped at him, incapable of listening to his lyrical laughter any longer.

"Oh, my dear Widow, you don't really think they'll find you—do you? Surely even you have realized that they will _never_ find you here." He leaned forward as he spoke, his green eyes glinting slightly with amusement—purely at her expense.

"You don't know what you're talking about. The Avengers will find this place. They will, just you wait" Natasha glared at Loki as she spoke, her conviction and blind confidence in her words evident.

"Perhaps, but how long will it take them? A month, two? Each day they search from Midgard is nearly ten you suffer here. Even if they do pick Voldengard out of the handful of other dark realms, even if they make it through the labyrinth that truly is this blemish, your 'Avengers' will be taking back the mangled remains of your decaying body. I doubt you will survive a month of their torture let alone a year. So, if I were you, I would not leave all my faith in the far away hands of your mortal friends and my _dear_ brother." He hadn't truly uttered a single threat to her, yet the pure terror he had sought to instill was enough to shake even her stony resolve. Not that she would ever let him know that, not a chance in hell. Actually scratch that, not a chance in this godforsaken realm that was clearly a poorly veiled offshoot of hell.

The color should have drained from Natasha's face as the God of Mischief crushed her hopes of survival, it would have too had it not been for so many years of training.

As far as SHIELD and everyone back on Earth knew, she had only been gone for two and a half days. The three weeks that Natasha had lay unconscious on this ground hade been hardly time for a search party to be assembled let alone the entire universe searched. Oh god, Loki was right.

Thinking those words was painful enough, actually accepting them was worse than any torture she had endured previously in her life.

"Then what do you suggest, huh? Just sit here and let them kill me, you're right, that's a much better plan." He rolled his eyes as she spoke. Jerk. Natasha didn't much care for his petulance or his arrogant 'mightier than thou' attitude. Couldn't he just accept that right now, with the pair of them strung up like play things in the cave of a far away land, they weren't so different. Beyond the point that one of them was a mass murderer and the other was a psychopath.

"Widow, I'm wounded, do you really think I would let such a fate befall you?" Was this bastard kidding? He had just admitted not five minutes ago that he had originally wanted to kill her.

"You just said you wanted to kill me." Natasha stated, completely deadpan.

He waved his free hand—only wincing slightly when that jostled his still gruesome holes—and passed that off as a "minor detail"

"If you'll recall, I only said not to put your faith in those so far away" his smile was sinister. Loki had a plan, a likely evil and horrible plan, but a plan nonetheless. Natasha was pretty sure it involved killing puppies. Evil men like Loki weren't happy unless at least one child cried.

"Are you suggesting I put my faith in _you_?" Natasha asked incredulously.

"Why yes. Only if you wish to live though, otherwise I would have to recommend you leave your hopes with those darling Avengers of yours."

**AN: Loki and Natasha are so hard to write, like freezing vodka hard, but it's still so great to try to capture them anyway. Alright well I really hope ya liked it and thanks for reading. If you feel like it, let me know what you thought, if you don't, have a great day—I hope no one throws up on your shoes. Anyway, thanks again, I'll have the next chapter out soon!**


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